


And so the Fates Declared

by pyromanicofthesea



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Use, Ghost Powers, Home Repair, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Control, Rating subject to change, Slow Burn, Tags Subject to Change, character death but it's a ghost au so that's expected, ghost au, home improvement as a plot catalyst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22584577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyromanicofthesea/pseuds/pyromanicofthesea
Summary: Jonathan Crane wanted to perfect his fear toxin compound if it was the last thing he did. Jervis Tetch needed a house for cheap relatively quickly to escape something he was caught up with in the previous town.Jonathan Crane didn't want a roommate. Jervis Tetch didn't want a spectre. You don't always get what you want.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Jervis Tetch
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One big special thanks to [JayTheAngstKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTheAngstKing) for giving me the idea for this quite some time ago. This was originally inspired by Jay's [The Letter M](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380753/chapters/19199245) (which i HIGHLY recommend reading!), and takes place within the same world. Once again, I highly recommend reading The Letter M, and honestly anything Jay has written. Wonderful work, big inspiration of mine, blah blah blah heart emoji.
> 
> This poor thing has been sitting in my docs for nearly two years now, collecting dust. So, naturally I'm going to try to revive it instead of doing my coursework for uni. No update schedule for this one, we'll all just have to pray together!
> 
> Also disclaimer, I have no clue what the process for fixing up a foreclosed property post-purchase is, so please, forgive any inaccuracies, and don't take my word to be law!

They had been in that house for so long now. They had seen storm and sun, snow and spring, but still no one to move in. No one to fill the emptiness inside the house that had settled there ages ago. Furniture decayed, fridge contents rotted, utilities went out one by one, until nothing about the house was welcoming at all. It used to be, though. It used to be warm and welcoming, revealing itself to someone looking for a cheap place to stay like a candle in the winter. But not now. Only then.  
Jonathan was the first one to move in, shortly after he came to Gotham City. The house was empty when he moved in, save for an end table in the foyer and an oven in the kitchen. All he bought was a small refrigerator, and a table from IKEA, both of which went in the basement of the house. He had other things, but those weren’t actually paid for - or even legally obtained - items.  
Jonathan had a career path of excitement, fresh out of college with a spiffy doctorate to employ him, he also partook in a bit of risky behavior himself. Though, what psychologist wouldn’t? After all, the human brain is a pleasure-seeking machine, and nothing gives a good thrill like robbing the Gotham National Bank while armed with a gaseous toxin of your own development in order to pay off your crippling student loan debt. Good thing your parents and extended family members are dead, and that your co-signer was a fake identity you convinced a man to aid you with portraying for a crisp, slightly less filthy than average, one hundred dollars cash. A career of criminal actions never did tend to last long, and one wouldn’t want to push their debt onto some other - probably grieving at that point - unsuspecting loved one. Yes, it was easy to say that Jonathan had chosen a life of excitement.  
Excitement, and experimentation. Jonathan snagged himself a gig at Gotham University, where he was able to run experiments on the students of the college just under the noses of the administration and other faculty members. Well, at least, he had. Until he made a mistake, as most oh so tragic characters do, and a student escaped. With proof, of course, because once your luck has gone down, it might as well go all the way.  
Stripped of his occupation and his licence to practice, a rather downtrodden Jonathan Crane sought his revenge against the simpletons of the college who couldn’t see that he was liberating those students from the fears that held them back. Revenge, because he was nothing if not a man of his aesthetics, took the shape of a Scarecrow armed with Jonathan’s chemical concoction and a field scythe. But mostly the chemical concoction.  
At least, it would’ve if he hadn’t holed himself up in his basement for days trying to improve his fear-inducing toxin. Improve it he had, possibly a little too much. Jonathan had worked himself to exhaustion, not realizing that he had been neglecting himself for nearly three days now. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to stop the exhaustion from setting in. Dead tired, he only rested his head a moment. Even that old voice in the back of his mind was dormant for the time being. He only rested his head a moment. He hadn’t turned off the burner beneath the beaker.

When Jervis moved in, he had just been looking for a place to lie low. It was so low on the market that staying in the house was cheaper than returning to the boarding home that served as his previous place of residence. That should’ve been a red flag. The paint was cracked and chipping, and it was barely livable in by the time the price had dropped so low. That should’ve been another red flag. Should’ve, but wasn’t. Not when you were a neuroscientist who murdered an entire football time through mind control. Even if they deserved it, moving away from the crime scene and ignoring housing red flags were part of the new job description.  
Of course, red flags are red flags, and only two weeks after moving in, the largest red flag of the house made its appearance. Well, made _his_ appearance. While Jervis was making tea to settle down for the evening, he heard a crash from the basement. Worried that a banister had finally given way in the rotting house, he made his way to the downstairs to investigate. Glass littered the floor, and the entire room smelled of char and death. Near the center of the room, glaring over the splintering table, stood a ghastly figure with features resembling a cornfield scarecrow. The oddest thing about it all was, perhaps, the transluscentness of the scarecrow-like figure. If he looked directly at the man-thing, Jervis could see the table through the figure’s body, as if it were just an apparition.  
“Hello?” Not knowing quite what to do, and not wanting to be rude, Jervis called out to the figure. It, or rather he, turned to face the small man. His eyes were of the same translucency as the rest of himself, though they gave off a slight orange illumination in the same instance.  
“Who let you in here? Get out! I’m working, and this is my house. Leave, boy!” Jervis shrunk away, rather spooked by the figure’s outburst. He stood on the first step of the staircase, ready to run if the apparition increased in hostility.  
“Pardon my interruption, but this is actually my house. I bought it, the paperwork has already been finalized.” Jervis was more curious than anything else, though fear was still digging its talons rather deep. “Were you the previous owner? What might I call you?” The apparition glared at Jervis, though it was more in annoyance than in anger or disgust. He figured he might as well humour the man with a conversation for now. No use in scaring him off if what he was saying were to be true. That would lead to investigations of the house, and he didn’t particularly want someone interrupting - or worse, discovering - his work.  
“Doctor Jonathan Crane,” he told Jervis. “And yes, I was the previous owner. Now leave me to my work.” Jervis didn’t move from his standing point on the staircase, but some of the initial fear from the apparition’s - from Jonathan Crane’s - outburst had subsided once he had a name to put with the face before him.  
“What might you be working on, Doctor Crane?” Jervis was trying to be as respectful and polite as he could, and the fact that he used the title that Jonathan had officially been stripped of several years prior dulled some of the animosity Jonathan initially held against the intruder. And that’s what Jervis was to Jonathan: an intruder in his home, regardless of what legal paperwork stated. He was still living in his home, obviously, which meant that he still owned it. At least, he does until the payments run out. But he should’ve been ahead several years, he had stocked up on quite a bit from his criminal escapades.  
“How long has my house been up for sale?” Jonathan asked, completely disregarding Jervis’ question in favour of his own. He needed to know just how long it had been, just how long he would still be the owner in his book.  
“I don’t remember exactly, but the representative from the bank said he had been trying to sell the house before it wasn’t liveable in for, five years I think? Maybe it was four.” Jonathan swore, as he had only paid to two years in advance. He couldn’t argue that the house was his, at least not easily now. But, of course, Jervis didn’t have to know that.  
After a while of waiting for Jonathan to respond further, Jervis grew almost bored of the odd silence. He didn’t want to just walk away from his guest, or roommate?, but he also did want to check the kettle and fall asleep watching a movie. “I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doing down here. If you could, though, be a bit quieter tonight? I’m going to be heading to bed soon.”  
“Yes yes, sure, now go.” Jonathan was already back to burying himself in his chemistry. Jervis headed back upstairs, just in time to hear the kettle click off.

He was bundled up in a thick blanket, as most of the utilities hadn’t been turned on. Water was it, but there was no heating or cooling, or even electricity. He had a battery-powered electric kettle still with him from college, and blessed be that trusty kettle. He used his phone to watch a movie he had downloaded years ago, propping it up against some stacked old phone books and snuggling down with his cup of tea and his blankets and a false promise of warmth throughout the night. The couch he sat on was the only thing in the house that wasn’t rancid, and something in the back of his mind told him that Jonathan must not spend all of his time down in the basement if some parts of the house weren’t disgusting. Jervis made a mental note for the next day: buy bleach, buy disinfecting wipes, buy a blow-up mattress, clean house. All of that would have to come after sleep, and after work in the morning.  
On one hand, the move did bring Jervis closer to his place of employment. On the other hand, he was literally hiding from a murder he caused. But, that other hand wasn’t _that_ important. It especially wasn’t that important when there was a hot cup of tea with his name on it, and a movie he had seen multiple times waiting to be viewed again.

Down in the basement, Jonathan worked away on improving his toxin. Even death would not stop him from acting out vengeance against the university that ruined his chance of publishing a research breakthrough. He was once a liberator of fear, freeing those students from the anxieties and nightmares that plagued their minds. But now, now he was quite literally a ghost of his former self, and he blamed the university’s faculty. He might not be able to obtain his licence to practice again, but, a ghost didn’t need a licence to act, and a person didn’t need a licence to know what they were doing. At least, they didn’t if they had already been trained.  
Jonathan, of course, had gone through too much work to keep his home to just let this Jervis man waltz in with some filed paperwork and take it from him. He had spent an entire week attempting to first leave the neighborhood, and then after discovering he couldn’t leave, trying to determine just what was preventing him from leaving the block. After a week, he determined it must’ve been his bones, or something of the sort, and that hypothesis was confirmed when, despite how much he tried to pick them up or scoot them across the floor, Jonathan could not for the after-life of him move the damn things from where they had fallen at his time of demise. So, Jonathan just went to work removing the floorboards under them until they fell down into the crawlspace of the house. He would have to patch the hole, but seeing as that was nearly five years ago and the hole still remained, it was very much a project for another day. A day when he could somehow get down to the hardware store and actually get the wooden panels needed to patch the floor.  
The more he thought about it, the more Jonathan realized that in his dedication to his work, he had let his house fall deeper into the gutter than it had been when he bought it. Perhaps that Jervis man could be of use. Jonathan concluded that as long as he didn’t interfere with his work, then he didn’t care if the man lived in the house with him. After all, Jonathan rarely went upstairs anymore, and it would be nice having someone to take care of the house. Mostly so contaminants didn’t end up mixing with his developing toxin, and so that he didn’t have to clean the house himself. It wasn’t as if Jonathan was lonely or anything, he had been alone ever since he left home. He didn’t need friends, he needed to prove those damn administration members wrong. At least, that’s what he told himself when he first realized he didn’t sleep anymore, and that’s what he’s told himself ever since.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Jervis changed into a fresh set of clothes and made crepes for breakfast. He left a plate on the table for Jonathan, not wanting to be inhospitable to the apparition, before he headed out for the day.  
He walked to work, which was nice enough for Gotham City in the middle of the winter. It wasn’t a horrible day, weather-wise, a bit cold but not as icy as it could’ve been. The sun was out when he got to work, and though the light caused the snow on the ground to reflect in a near-blinding manner, the sunlight itself was an enjoyable occurrence. It wasn’t every day that it was sunny outside, especially in the morning hours. Especially in Gotham City.  
Work was the same as ever, though Jervis continued to make adjustments to the mind control technology he was developing. Mind control, though he officially called it neuro-influencing technology. That sounded better in formal reports, and it sounded much less suspicious than mind control.  
Jonathan, meanwhile, had just come up from the basement to try and convince Jervis to make a trip to the hardware store. Evidently, the man was nowhere to be found, as he had left for work almost an hour prior, but Jonathan didn’t know that, and so he searched the house for the man.  
He found his way back to the kitchen, where he noticed the now cold plate of crepes Jervis had left for him. Jonathan didn’t know if he should feet touched that the man had thought of leaving him breakfast, or if he should shake his head because ghosts don’t eat and this was a waste of food. Jonathan decided to do both as he emptied the plate into the trash bin and set the dish into the sink, a small smile gracing his features for just a moment before his usual bored-to-death expression returned.  
He didn’t really feel like tidying up the house, even though he knew he should, considering he now had a roommate for the foreseeable future, so Jonathan returned to his basement and returned to his experiments.

When Jervis came home from work that night, Jonathan was atop the stairs almost immediately after Jervis shut the front door.  
“I need you to do something for me.” Jervis gave Jonathan a look that screamed ‘had a bad day’ as he hung up his coat and toed off his shoes. Jonathan didn’t seem to care, as he stood there at the top of the stairs awaiting an answer.  
“What is it?” Jervis asked, actually curious even if he was exhausted. All he really wanted to do was make a cup of tea, find a way to charge his phone, and possibly take a relaxing bath depending on how filthy the bathtub was.  
“Go down to the hardware store, there are holes in the basement that need to be covered.” Jonathan thought for a moment, realizing questions could be asked as to why he cared about the condition of the flooring when he had let the entire rest of the house go to the dogs. “I almost got my leg stuck in one earlier today.”  
“No you didn’t, you’re a ghost,” Jervis replied, as if it was the most obvious lie he had ever caught someone in. “Or a hallucination, but either way. If you want me to fix up the house, you only had to ask.”  
“This is me asking,” Jonathan replied with a smile that wasn’t entirely completely condescending.  
“I’ll be going to buy cleaning supplies tomorrow. I can stop by the hardware store then,” Jervis said. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything other than relax, and he certainly didn’t feel like walking back out in the cold when he could sip tea and try to warm up inside. Though, it was nearly just as cold outside as it was in. He made a mental note to call a furnace installation company and see about getting at least heating installed in the place. But that, along with everything else, was an action for tomorrow.  
He walked over to the counter where his little battery-powered electric kettle sat. He clicked it on and when to the cupboard to fetch a mug that he knew he’d have to dust and thoroughly rinse out. He turned to Jonathan, not wanting to leave the man out. “Would you like a cup of tea, Doctor Crane?”  
“I don’t eat or drink,” Jonathan replied, though he didn’t say it as harshly as he could. Something about the formalness that Jervis held himself to made Jonathan feel almost relaxed. Almost.  
Jervis realized then that the extra crepes he made for breakfast weren’t able to be enjoyed.  
“My apologies,” he replied, truly feeling sympathetic that the apparition couldn’t enjoy a good meal or a warm cup of tea anymore. “Is there anything similar to, um, living food that you would like? I’m open to suggestions on what to make.”  
“No, it’s quite alright,” Jonathan replied, huffing out a short laugh. Almost relaxed. “I’ll be in the basement working, I ask that you don’t disturb me.” This time, it wasn’t said with much malice. There was still some abrasion, but that was mostly just Jonathan’s personality and not any sort of dislike of Jervis. Jonathan returned to the basement, and Jervis leaned against the kitchen counter. He played games on his phone until the kettle clicked, and he was glad he had charged his phone while he was at work. He poured himself a cup of tea, and hunkered down on the least disgusting couch, wrapped in a blanket, slowly continuing the evening ritual that he had started in his first living quarters.

Jervis called in sick from work in the morning, and spent most of the morning gathering cleaning supplies and wooden boards. That afternoon, he sprayed down the bathtub-shower with mold killer and let it sit while he went down to the basement to make the repairs. He gave a smile to Jonathan, who only offered a quick glance up from his workspace in response. He found the torn up wooden floorings soon enough, over in the corner of the basement. He looked over the space for a moment, trying to dredge up any sort of knowledge he had of home improvement. The boards were broken and cracked, not at all removed in a carefully planned way. He wondered if an animal had gotten into the crawlspace or something.  
“Hey Doctor Crane?” Jervis said as he turned to face Jonathan again. Jonathan didn’t look up, but he did acknowledge that he was being spoken to.  
“You can just call me Jonathan, you know.”  
“I know,” Jervis replied. “I’m going to need to take off the broken boards if that’s alright.” Jonathan looked up at that. He knew there was no sense in trying to deny the fact that he was very much not alive, but the thought of Jervis finding his bones made his not-skin crawl. It was almost like the thought of the man walking in on him stepping out of the shower. It wasn’t one he was fond of. But, he did, however, want his bones to be at the house. Though, that did make it rather difficult to get out, and he wasn’t close enough to the university to actually get to any of the bastards there. Perhaps if Jervis was willing to move them, he would be able to get around much easier.  
“That’s alright,” Jonathan replied. He gave Jervis an almost warm smile. It was a rather pathetic attempt at being charming, and despite how pathetic of an attempt it was, Jervis thought the half-smile was rather appealing on Jonathan. He did, however, shake the thought from his head. It was bad enough he started having episodes a few months back, despite how infrequent they were. The last thing he wanted was to go completely off the deep end and fancy a ghost. “There is something else I need you to do.”  
“What is it?”  
“Underneath those floorboards are some bones. I need you to bring up all but one of them.”  
“Which one would you like me to leave down there?”  
“It doesn’t make any difference to me,” Jonathan replied, though he wasn’t actually sure if the size of the bone would make a difference when it comes to travel. Though he had been dead for apparently near five years, he had done very little experimentation with his new form. That was a shame, really, for he had always been prone to experimentation before. It was rather the very character trait that had gotten him into this bit of a mess in the first place.  
He didn’t realize Jervis had accepted his request until he heard the already broken floorboards being pried up by a crowbar. He couldn’t help but shake his head and smile as he went back to his work. Jervis never even questioned why, he just took the task and ran with it. Jonathan caught himself sneaking glances up from his work every now and again, and he was glad Jervis was too focused on the repairs to notice.  
Jervis pulled up the broken floorboards one by one, some being set down elsewhere on the floor, and others falling down into the crawlspace of the home’s foundation. Once the floorboards were removed, Jervis grabbed a flashlight and flicked it on so he could see into the crawlspace. As he peered down, he saw strips of white littering the ground beneath him. Jonathan’s bones, they had to be.  
It didn’t look too far down, so Jervis climbed down into the crawlspace with his flashlight to get a better look. The bones were, for the most part, scattered in a central area around the hole above that Jervis had made. Jervis reached out to examine the skull, as it seemed to be in pristine condition despite the lack of preservatives. Had Jonathan died down here, or up above on the basement floor? Judging by the radius of how far the bones were scattered, he must’ve died up above and his bones fallen down here much later. Five years or so, but they were completely clean. The thought sent a chill up Jervis’s spine. Animals. Rats and raccoons and flies and other unsavory creatures. Disgusting. He didn’t want to think about that. Jonathan wasn’t a terrible housemate, in fact he hardly ever heard him, though he never forgot he was there. Jonathan might’ve preferred to keep to himself, but that wouldn’t stop Jervis from being a good host. Or, perhaps guest, as the house was technically Jonathan’s. Jonathan did still live there, after all. Nevertheless, Jervis didn’t want to think about creatures nibbling the flesh from Jonathan’s bones. He much rather think of Jonathan succeeding in whatever it was he was working on down in the dreary, dark basement. His flashlight flickered a moment, but the batteries held strong still.  
Jervis picked up the skull with careful curiosity. He had a featherlight touch as he stroked the side of the skull, where Jonathan’s cheek would’ve been had the skull been covered in muscle and flesh. He was surprised by how smooth the bone was, despite the sharp edges and angles.  
Jonathan froze at his work table, a sudden chill spreading down his cheek and emanating from the base of his jaw. It lingered for a moment after Jervis pulled away his hand before the cold feeling faded from Jonathan’s cheek, but his shocked Jonathan enough to pull him from his work. The chill at the base of his jaw remained. He appeared behind Jervis without a sound, much like ghosts tend to do.  
“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” Jervis yelped, not having expected Jonathan to be behind him. He scrambled to not drop the skull, flashlight long forgotten. A flash of cold erupted and stayed at the back of Jonathan’s head as Jervis held onto the skull there as well, trying to keep it safe in his hands. He looked up at Jonathan in fear, and the terrored look made Jonathan grin. It wasn’t the same kind grin he had when Jervis made him crepes the man didn’t know the ghost couldn’t eat. It was a different kind. The mad kind. The kind he had during his experiments at the school. It was not a friendly grin, as he was not a friendly man.  
“Moving your bones, like you asked me to,” Jervis squeaked, immediately wishing he had at least his prototype technology to protect himself with, though the more rational part of his mind figured it wouldn’t work on a spirit. Jonathan gave him a look that screamed ‘sure Jan’, but he didn’t press the matter. It was one touch on the cheek. His mind must’ve just been being weird from the lack of contact he’s had for so long. Then again, not having contact with anyone hadn’t bothered him all that much before.  
“I can feel where you touch, and it’s interrupting my work. Hurry up.” Jervis nodded, and reached up to set the skull on the floor of the basement. He couldn’t reach it, and swore. That meant he was stuck down there as well, unless Jonathan was going to be kind enough to lift him. Jervis looked at Jonathan with an almost apologetic look. He knew the man had seen his struggle, and Jonathan sighed. He crouched down and lifted Jervis up, holding him by his waist as the man set Joanthan’s skull down. The chilled feeling dissipated, though Jervis could feel a freezing pressure where Jonathan was holding him. It was an odd sort of feeling, though it wasn’t entirely unwelcomed either. He wasn’t a fan of the cold, but he wasn’t opposed to it either. Jervis was a strange man.  
They worked like that, Jervis picking up the bones and Jonathan picking up Jervis, until all but one of the bones in the crawlspace were now sitting on the basement floor. Jervis buried the last bone - a rib that had been broken from the skeleton some time ago - so that animals that might get inside the crawlspace couldn’t get to it easily. Jonathan lifted Jervis up one last time so the man could climb out of the crawlspace. Jonathan disappeared himself, reappearing at his work table. Jervis gave the man a thankful smile, glad Jonathan helped him out.  
Jervis moved the bones aside a bit further, more mindful of how much he touched them now, so he could begin laying the new floorboards over the hole in the basement floor. He nailed the boards into place one by one until there was only fresh boards as patchwork, no hole to be seen. Granted, he did have to saw a few so that they’d fit, so there were some lopsided end cuts, but that was to be expected when Jonathan didn’t seem to have a band saw. Or a jigsaw. Or any sort of electric tools for that matter. Nevertheless, Jervis stood up with triumph when the job was done. The rest of the basement floor needed to be replaced as well, but seeing as it wasn’t completely falling apart just yet, it would wait until the rest of the renovations were completed.  
Jervis headed back upstairs to tackle the bathroom, the bathtub-shower by now had soaked in the sprayed bleach and hopefully only contained dead mildew as opposed to the living mildew that Jervis encountered when he first moved in.  
He pulled on some cleaning gloves, mixed bleach into a bucket with water, and got to work. First he rinsed the walls and water basin of the bathtub-shower, washing much of the muck and grim down the drain. What remained, Jervis doused in bleach cleaning solution and scrubbed off with the ferocity of a maid who was done with the children of the house’s shit. The remaining muck and grim didn’t stand a chance, as was rinsed down the drain to meet their disgusting siblings after only a few cycles of bleach-filled ferocious scrubbing. It was rather satisfying to slowly reach the true colour of the bathtub-shower. Slowly.  
After nearly four hours worth of work, Jervis was sick of cleaning, and utterly exhausted. He left his cleaning gloves on the side of the bathtub, and poured half the bleach cleaning solution into the sink. The other half, he poured down the drain off the bathtub. He washed his hands thoroughly at the kitchen sink, the one clean sink in the whole house. He probably used more soap than was necessary, but the last thing he wanted was to ingest mildew or bleach.  
Once his hands were clean, he clicked on the kettle and started his evening routine of making a cup of tea, fetching a blanket, and watching movies on his phone until he fell asleep on the least disgusting couch in the house. This time, he considered going down into the basement and sleeping there, as it was at least a little more clean that the main floor or the attic, but he didn’t want to disturb Jonathan’s work. That, and it was always so bloody cold down there, as if no heat was able to enter the basement at all. The more Jervis thought on it, the more he realized he had forgotten to call from work to get the heat and other utilities turned back on for the house.  
Jervis walked down the basement steps as quietly as he could possibly manage. He watched Jonathan work for a moment before he spoke, though he was curious as to just what it was that Jonathan was doing down in the basement all the time. He certainly didn’t look to be sulking about or moping, or whatever else ghosts did during hauntings when they weren’t terrorizing the new inhabitants of their old home. Though, at that thought Jervis realized that Jonathan wasn’t ever really bad company. He mostly kept to himself, and seemed quite content with remaining in the basement to himself. What a lonely life.  
“Hey doctor Crane?” Jervis waited for Jonathan to acknowledge him before he spoke again. When Jonathan glanced up for a moment, he continued. “Was there already heating installed in the house, or will I need to have a furnace installed?”  
“Already installed,” Jonathan said rather offhandedly as he poured some of the contents of a beaker into a test tube. “The boiler is in the closet by the guest room. Other side of the house.” Jonathan paused a moment, realizing what Jervis was intending on doing. He looked up at the man fully, meeting his eyes. “Are you planning on turning the heating back on?”  
“The electricity too,” Jervis replied with cheer. “The water has been on since the evening I moved in. Oh! And the master bath is almost fully cleaned, but I’m calling it a night for now. I still have work in the morning.” Jonathan looked at Jervis with a rather surprised look. He didn’t realize the man had been cleaning up the house since he had gotten home. He thought for a moment, figuring it was only fair that tomorrow he helped out.  
“Thank you, you’re a great help,” Jonathan said, giving the man something akin to a slight smile. Jervis was positively beaming, and he all but skipped up the stairs to the main floor. Jonathan smiled a bit wider to himself, rather amused by the small man.  
The kettle clicked just as Jervis reached the top of the stairs, and he went to pour himself his nightly cup of tea. He smiled to himself as he took a sip and went to fetch a clean blanket for the night. He made a mental note to do a load of laundry once the utilities were back on. Though, he did have water and a kettle, so theoretically he could wash the laundry by hand. But, the washing machine Jonathan had looked to be in working condition, despite the layers of dust. If Jervis was being honest with himself, the washing machine looked as if it had only been touched a handful of times. He wondered just how long Jonathan had lived in the house before his death. He shook the thought from his head. It wasn’t his place to pry.  
Jervis settled onto the couch for the night, cozy in a blanket with a warm cup of tea in one hand and his phone with a movie loaded up in the other. He did love his job, but he also loved getting to relax at the end of the day. There was nothing better than falling asleep watching a movie. He was cozy and warm, as the chill about the house seemed to stay in the basement, and he was for the most part sleeping on a not-so-terrible condition couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was actually going to upload this chapter on Friday, but then i caught something and I've been pretty much out of commission since then. Some head cold, probably, since I'm still pretty foggy right now, but, time stops for no one, and I'd like to work to keep this story relevant. I saw Birds of Prey Sunday, and fuck me if it didn't revamp my interest in the batverse. Zsasz had an,,,,,*ahem* inspiring characterization. And of course, Harley and the Birds of Prey were *deep breath* *clenches fist* SO COOL. I don't mean to movie-review in my notes, but, mmmmmmmmmmmmm Birds of Prey is worth mentioning.
> 
> As always, thanks for the reads and the loves, lovelies! I appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

After Jervis left for work that morning, Jonathan left the basement and his experiments, and did what he could to clean the house. He mixed the bleach in the bucket and carried it to the bathroom, though he wasn’t able to fill it as full as Jervis had without risking not being able to carry it all the way there. It was one of the few things he hated about being dead. He had maybe half the strength he once did, most likely less. It was inconvenient at best, and not being able to manifest mid-chemical-pour at worst.  
Regardless, Jonathan scrubbed out the bathroom sink and made sure the bathtub-shower of the master bath was clean and usable. He also scrubbed the floor, but took once glance at the toilet and declared it a lost cause. It was boring work, and he didn’t know why Jervis had been so adamant about cleaning the place up. Sure it was a bit dirty, but he had lived in worse, and it couldn’t have been that bad since the damn bank still sold _his_ house instead of leaving it to be inhabited by himself alone.  
After near five hours of cleaning, Jonathan found himself making excuses to wander down the hall and glance at the front door, hoping Jervis would be home. He knew the man worked late most nights, damn his engineering job or whatever it was. Had he even asked? Doubtful, Jonathan rarely cared enough about a person’s life to ask about details from it. Nevertheless, he found himself more and more at least wanting company while he worked. Possibly even help, because the bucket of bleach cleaning solution was getting heavier as the time passed, though Jonathan hadn’t added anything to it.  
When his appiritional form flickered, and he almost spilled the bucket onto the carpet, he swore and called it a day, not wanting to fade out and stain the carpet with bleach. As if the carpet wasn’t stained already. He sighed, and set the bucket down in the master bath. He looked around the bathroom at his work, and for the most part it was looking better. The toilet was still a lost cause in his mind, and the flooring and walls needed a savior, but the sink and the bathtub-shower were looking usable for the first time in nearly five years. He smiled to himself, rather satisfied with the work. Though, he knew he’d have to disappear sooner that night because of it. That would cut into his work time. But, for some reason, Jonathan was oddly fine with that this time.

Jervis stopped at the Gotham City Library on his way home. After a short conversation with one of the receptionists, Jervis ended up with his nose buried in several books on ghosts and spirits. Some were religious, some were pseudo-scientific, and some were speculatory. He read bits and pieces of some of the main chapters of the books, trying to figure out what all was fact and what was fiction. It started to become tedious sifting through the information that may or may not be actual information. In the end, he checked out nearly half of the booked he had pulled from the shelves, returning the rest of the books to their individual places in the library. He smiled at the receptionist, noticing for a moment that the man was rather cute. He had long but well-kept sandy hair and a rather puppy-dog adorable face. When the receptionist at the front desk smiled back, Jervis could feel his cheeks heat up. He was smiling like a fool as he walked away with his books.  
The blush didn’t fade on the walk home. If anything, it worsened with the cold evening air assaulting Jervis’s face the entire way home. When he walked into the house, he found Jonathan on the couch messing with one of the lamps. He was turning it off and on, only stopping when Jervis set down his books on the kitchen table and greeted him. Jonathan looked over at Jervis as a response to the cheerful wish of a good evening. He saw the red across the man’s face first.  
“Nearly your entire face is flushed. Don’t catch a cold outside.” Jervis gave Jonathan a warm smile, assuming that was Jonathan’s way of wishing him good health. The man was so closed off, Jervis couldn’t help but wonder what in his life had happened that caused Jonathan to have such a cold personality.  
“I didn’t, though I doubt it would concern you much, all things considering.” Jervis smiled at the memory of the pretty man from the library. “No, no illness is making me blush. I talked to this rather cute man at the library today while I was checking out a few books.” Jonathan couldn’t help but smile at that. So, Jervis was interested in men?  
“Did you happen to ask for his number?”  
“No, unfortunately I didn’t have the courage to ask him to tea,” Jervis replied, sounding almost sad over the whole ordeal. He looked up at Jonathan rather curiously. “Why do you ask?”  
“I’m asking for a friend,” Jonathan said seamlessly, and it sounded very much like the joke he intended it to be. Jervis laughed wholeheartedly, finding it quite amusing Jonathan’s little stab at actually asking for himself, and Jonathan couldn’t help but find his mood being improved by the sound of Jervis’s laugh. Maybe having a roommate wouldn’t be so bad.  
“Not to be rude, but, why are you out of the basement, Doctor Crane?” Jervis asked, tilting his head much like a curious owl.  
“I was cleaning a bit. Now I’m recharging. I’ll go back to my workspace later tonight.” Jervis nodded as if what Jonathan had said actually made any sense.  
“Would you be willing to share the couch? I’d like to read some of the books I checked out.” In response, Jonathan just moved so he was only taking up a half of the couch, allowing Jervis to sit down on the other half.  
Jervis took the book on the top of the stack and sat down, using his phone for light in the dark home. He shivered a bit, the room feeling just as cold as the basement, before he grabbed the blanket he had left folded and draped over the armrest of the couch. He wrapped it around himself and returned to his reading. Jonathan didn’t say anything until Jervis’s phone battery was nearing its half life.  
“I can turn on the lights, you know.”  
“But I haven’t paid for the electricity to be turned back on yet,” Jervis replied, looking over at Jonathan. He hadn’t noticed the way Jonathan seemed to glow without giving off any light before. It was rather nice, a light that didn’t hurt his eyes in the dark.  
Jonathan reached out and touched the lightbulb of the lamp that stood beside the couch. The lightbulb turned on, chasing away the darkness of the living room.  
“Here, I’ll keep the light on so you can read, if I can read over your shoulder.”  
“But you won’t be, um, recharging then, will you?”  
“No, but this is much easier than moving heavy objects,” Jonathan replied, almost touched that Jervis cared about whether or not he had any energy to manifest left. Almost.  
Jervis moved over closer to the lamp, and Jonathan laid down across the top of the couch, one hand on the lightbulb. He read over Jervis’s shoulder, pointing out when the book was wrong, not unlike a professor would do to the textbook used in class. He pointed out where the book’s flaws were, added his own comments, and corrected the book when he was able. Jervis rather enjoyed it, though he was much colder this close to Jonathan, and was glad he had a blanket around him.  
Jervis ended up dozing off, and when he was asleep, Jonathan let go of the lightbulb and got down off the top of the couch. He sat next to Jervis for a moment, just looking at the slumbering man. Soft blonde hair that waved down to his chin. At least, it looked like it would be soft. Jonathan didn’t actually know if Jervis’s hair was soft to the touch or not, and he wasn’t about to pet the man’s hair to find out.  
Pulling himself from his thoughts, Jonathan headed back down to the basement, though he wasn’t able to work for very long before he flickered out, his energy near entirely spent.

In the morning, Jervis was gone off to work before Jonathan reappeared. It dawned on the apparition that he had been a bit too careless with expending energy the previous night, but that was really an afterthought. There were more pressing matters to attend to, considering he had lost nearly a day’s-worth of work yesterday. He remained down in the basement for the rest of the day, working away trying to recover the time he had lost from yesterday.  
Jervis went to see about getting the rest of the utilities turned back on in his house after work that evening. It was the first time in a long time that he ended his day early, but he intended on working late tomorrow anyway, so it would all balance out.  
Of course, it ended up requiring a call, which he’d have to do at home. So, off to home he walked, and he hoped Jonathan wouldn’t be opposed to having someone drop by the house to check everything out. Though, at that point, he’d need to get the rest of the house looking better. Jervis sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He had a lot of work ahead of him.  
Jonathan found himself looking up from his work when he heard the front door shut. He was rather surprised by himself. He had never really looked forward to getting to see someone before, but, then again, a lot had changed in the past five years. He wasn’t living his old life, why should he continue the patterns of himself that pertained to when he was still alive?  
Jervis hung his jacket on the coat rack, along with his hat, and got ready to continue cleaning. Jonathan came up from the basement and offered a hand, to which Jervis visibly lit up at. He was elated that Jonathan wanted to help him clean up the house, and the work went much faster with Jonathan’s help.  
They had the hallway that connected to the bathroom de-molded and the master bath completely clean. Jonathan helped get the old vacuum working, powering it himself to vacuum the bathroom and hallway floor. He was glad that his home had gotten a reputation of hauntings, seeing as it decreased the number of people breaking in trying to steal copper wiring down to nearly none in the past four years. He was rather proud of himself for spreading that much fear in just a year, though it wouldn’t compare to the fear he would be able to spread once his toxin was improved. Of course, it wasn’t just for spreading fear. No, it was for liberation from fear as well, and Jonathan intended on liberating not just the college, but Gotham city itself.  
At least, those were the thoughts that filled his head while he and Jervis cleaned. By the time he was starting to flicker, they had cleaned their way down the hall and into the master bedroom. It was almost as if the cleansing was radiating out from the master bath, as some parts of the floor near the door to the bathroom were more clean than when they began, and the rest of the room was still disgustingly filthy and not somewhere Jervis would choose to stay unless he had to.  
Of course, he had to though. He couldn’t just return to the boarding home he had been living at prior, he killed several people there - though it was technically an indirect homicide - and he didn’t need that bloodshed being traced back to his mind control work. And so, he did his best to make the house liveable in. With one look at the bed, though, he decided that was a lost cause and he’d throw it out when he got the master bedroom cleaned up.  
“Jonathan, care to call it a day and join me this evening?” he asked when he noticed the ghost wasn’t as visible as he normally was. Jonathan gave what could be seen by some as a small smile, and agreed to Jervis’s proposition.  
Jervis clicked the kettle on and fetched a blanket as Jonathan settled on the couch. Jervis came over, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea in hand, and sat beside Jonathan about ten minutes later. Jervis gave Jonathan a warm smile, and Jonathan gave a rather awkward one in return. He really was still a stranger to the concept of roommates and friendly behavior.  
“So, I’m going to get the utilities turned on either tomorrow or the next day so that an inspector can come and give the house the okay so I get can permanent electricity and heating for the house, if you’re alright with someone coming by to once-over the house, of course,” Jervis said after taking a sip of his tea. Jonathan just shrugged, knowing that this was a step in having a still-living roommate.  
“Sure, but why’re you telling me?”  
“You know I bought this house so low because it was rumoured to be haunted, yes? I’d appreciate it if you didn’t frighten off the inspector,” Jervis replied, giving Jonathan a look that dared him to disagree. “To be quite frank, it’s bloody cold in here quite often and I’m freezing my arse off most of the time.”  
“Well, if I could help that, I would. Do you think it’s easy having to power a burner while I work so that the temperature doesn’t interfere with my compounds?”  
“I highly doubt it. But, if you’d like a better lab space, I work at Wayne Industries. You are welcome to share my lab, though it’s more tech-related than chemistry.” Jonathan looked at Jervis in shock. He was offering him a lab space? Jonathan couldn’t help but smile just a little. It sounded too good to be true. Of course, the realization hit him like a brick.  
“Jervis, what about the rest of my bones in the basement? Where do you intend on hiding those while the inspector is here?”  
“Why, I thought I’d simply put the skeleton in my closet,” he replied, making some sort of a bad joke that caused Jonathan to internally cringe. He rolled his eyes, refusing to encourage that sort of thing. “In all seriousness, I had forgotten that they were still down there. What had you intended me to do with them after bringing them up?” Jonathan was quiet for some time, and Jervis filled the time with sips of tea and curious eyes watching Jonathan’s features as the ghost thought over his words.  
“Find places to hide them around Gotham,” Jonathan said, though it wasn’t with any demanding authority. When Jervis looked at him in confusion, he continued. “I can only be where my bones are. If you put my bones around the city, I can go downtown and to the waterfront and things like that. A square block from the piece you leave, give or take a little.” Jervis nodded with excited enthusiasm, understanding and being completely on board with Jonathan’s request. He could definitely do that, it would be easy.  
The two sat in relative silence for a while before Jervis took out his phone and loaded a movie up on it. He gave Jonathan an inviting smile, and Jonathan inched a tad closer so he could see. Jervis was once again thankful that he had a blanket with him, because the air around Jonathan was freezing cold.  
They sat like that, watching a movie on the small screen of Jervis’s phone, until Jervis fell asleep and the phone slipped out of his hands. Jonathan caught the phone, and the empty mug, before the ground could take impact. He closed out of the movie and set the locked phone on the coffee table before putting the mug into the kitchen sink. He couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face as he went back down to the basement.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning was proving to be more difficult to approach than ever before. Jervis, for several reasons, very much did not want to leave the warmth of the couch and his blanket. It was far too early in the morning, on a Saturday no less, and he was quite cozy in the space he had created for himself. But, he had tasks to set off on today. But, he was so warm and cozy.  
Five more minutes of sleep turned into nearly two and a half hours, and Jervis was woken up by the chilled air caused by Jonathan’s presence on the main floor. Jervis sat up to try and see where Jonathan was, but he wasn’t in view. Jervis, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, went to investigate. He found Jonathan in the master bedroom, cleaning what he could.  
“How long have you been up?” Jonathan paused what he was doing, and turned to Jervis.  
“I don’t sleep. But, if you’re asking how long have I been cleaning, it’s only about an hour.”  
“Let me get some breakfast and I’ll join you.” Jervis headed off for the kitchen, though not before putting on his jacket. He knew by now that working around Jonathan was going to be chilly.  
Breakfast made and eaten, Jervis and Jonathan cleaned up the master bedroom as best they could. There was still the problem of the bed, and if there were room in the doorframe, Jervis would’ve asked Jonathan to just use his ghost powers to float it out of the house. Though, Jervis didn’t actually know if Jonathan could do something like that. It was just a thought.  
With the master bedroom - minus the lostcause of a bed - cleaned as best as possible, Jervis decided he earned himself some time to relax. It was Saturday, he didn’t work until Monday, and he was tired. So, he did what most wouldn’t when trying to relax, and set up the pieces he needed to smoke.  
He had gotten the opium kit when he had just graduated college, having experimented off and on for years, always on some rich frat-kid’s terms because he didn’t know enough - nor did he have the money - to indulge in the drug at his own leisure. Which, in all honesty, was a good thing. It taught him control, and watching the frat-member slowly fall downhill over the course of four years was incentive enough to _not go overboard with the bad use of freetime_.  
Jervis lit the flame and set up his pipe. When he took his first hit, he started to cough. It had been too long, and he had taken in too much. He had gotten back into the hang of it by his fourth hit though, and by then Jonathan had appeared on the couch cushion beside him.  
“What on earth are you doing?” Jonathan didn’t sound thrilled by any means, but he wasn’t the energy of rage that he normally was when appearing before someone using his house as a place to get high.  
“Nothing much,” Jervis replied with a rather loose grin. He was barely getting up there, but he was definitely getting there. Jonathan glared at the smaller man.  
“I spent nearly five years scaring off people who’d do similar things as that,” he said, turning his glare away from Jervis and to the smoking kit. Jervis lowered his pipe and looked over at Jonathan, his eyes wide, almost like a puppy who was begging.  
“You wouldn’t chase me away, would you?” Jonathan was quiet for a long time, glaring at the smoking kit as if he were trying to will it away. Eventually he broke the silence with a sigh, and looked at Jervis. He was almost unnerved that Jervis was still looking at him with the puppy-dog expression. The man really wasn’t afraid. It was almost as if the man was saddened by the suggestion that Jonathan would kick him out for smoking opium in the living room. Jonathan should kick him out. He absolutely should. He had chased away others for less.  
“No, stay,” Jonathan said, sounded rather defeated. Jervis grew a smile that was almost Cheshire in nature. He set down his pipe and moved to hug Jonathan, though he fell through the apparition and onto the couch, landing rather unceremoniously face-first into the fabric of the armrest. Jonathan moved, though while Jonathan had been rather clipped into Jervis’s side, the smaller man could feel an icy chill at his side. It was surreal, though in his doped up haze he didn’t quite register it until a moment later.  
“You’re rather cold,” Jervis said after he turned to face Jonathan again, laying on his side across the couch. Jonathan gave Jervis a rather deadpan expression.  
“Yes, that tends to happen when you don’t have a body.” Jervis looked at Jonathan rather intensely for what to him felt like a few moments, but was really reaching two minutes.  
“Is possession real?”  
“Yes.”  
“Would you like to possess me? So you can be warm again?” Jonathan looked at Jervis as if the man had spoken in a foreign language. Surely the man wasn’t serious? He didn’t even know what possession could do, or just how easy it would be for Jonathan to take his body permanently. He knew nothing of what he was offering.  
“No. Jervis, you’re high, you aren’t thinking properly.” He wanted to say yes, though. Five years of no sleep, no food, no drinks, no feelings, no warmth. The thought of a glass of iced tea, of a mug of hot chocolate, of a long nap and a sandwich, of the sunlight and the wind having worth again. The thought of being warm. Jonathan wanted very badly to say yes.  
“Come now, Doctor Crane, I haven’t had that much.” It was so tempting. One word, one word and he could be whole again. He could feel human again. Jervis wouldn’t be able to force him out, either; the man knew so little of what he was playing with. If Jonathan would just swallow his virtue, he could feel as though he was still alive.  
“You’re not sober, and I’m not going to take advantage of your inebriation. My answer is no. Ask me again when you’re sober, and then I’ll think about it.” Jervis pouted, still laying down across the couch, as if he was actually offended Jonathan said no. Had he been in a more sensible state of mind, Jervis would’ve been horrified he had even offered to relinquish the control of his mind. The control of his mind was so very important to him, even if his grasp on it did slip from time to time. That was normal though, at least, that’s what he told himself whenever he found he wasn’t quite himself.  
“Will you at least keep me company?” Jervis asked as he sat up, though he moved rather slowly. He held his pipe over the little flame and took a hit, looking up expectantly at Jonathan as he let the smoke drift out of his mouth much like a sleeping dragon. Jonathan sighed as he sat down beside Jervis, though it wasn’t a bad sigh. He hadn’t been expecting the man to ask him to stay, seeing as Jervis never had before, but he found that he wasn’t entirely opposed to it either.  
After a moment of Jervis quietly smoking, he snuffed out the flame and set his pipe down. He leaned to the side, slowly falling, until he was stopped by Jonathan. He didn’t slip through the ghost this time. Jervis looked up at Jonathan, slightly confused, and Jonathan just gave the high man the same look one would give a stupid yet endearing puppy. Jervis giggled quietly to himself, and Jonathan sat there, Jervis leaned into his side, not sure what to do and not sure if he actually wanted to let the man fall onto the couch again.  
“Jonathan,” Jervis began, sounding almost as if he was fighting the desire to sleep. “Are you real?”  
“Yes. You are laying on me, are you not?”  
“I am. I just, just wanted to make sure.”  
“Do you often lean against things that are not real?” Jonathan was only half-joking. Of course he had heard jokes about psychosis while he was still a professor. Empty words from students pointing out that the voices told them to say it, or that there truly was a shadow figure in the hallway. He knew some students were joking, maybe for attention, maybe for laughs, maybe for someone to notice and help. But, he also knew that some students weren’t so much joking as they were hiding their poor mental health behind the curtain of a laugh. He may have been a professor, but he was still a psychologist, and a licensed one at that time. Though you can take the license to practice away from the psychologist, you could never take away the practice itself. So Jonathan thought, until he received confirmation otherwise, that Jervis might not be in the best mental health.  
“Not lean, no,” Jervis replied, slow and sounding almost lost. Jonathan couldn’t tell if it was wordplay to try and not give hint that something wasn’t alright, or if this was the opium talking. He knew opium could cause hallucinations, but was Jervis experiencing visual hallucinations outside of the drug use as well?  
“Do you see things that are not real often, even if you don’t lean on them?” Jonathan could feel Jervis shrug against him, and he bit his lip. This was going to end up being outside of his control and he knew it, he could already tell, though he hoped that this was an opium-related thing - as horrible as that sounded - and not something else. He wasn’t able to deal with _something else_ in his current state, and he knew it, and he hated it but he was above letting his pride dictate who he took in as a client and who he referred to someone else. Or in this case, who he suggested saw someone.  
“Not often,” Jervis replied after quite the moment of silence. Jonathan was growing rather tired of this guessing game already.  
“Jervis, do you hallucinate only when you’re high, or when you’re sober as well?” Jervis went quiet for another moment, and Jonathan bit his lip again. He was losing his patience, he was well over five years out of practice. You might not be able to take the practice out of the psychologist, but anyone can get rusty over time. Jonathan hoped that his blunt question hadn’t frightened Jervis into clamming up about this. The one time Jonathan _didn’t_ want to spook anyone.  
“Not as often, but when I’m sober as well.” Jonathan had to bite his tongue to keep from swearing. He was hoping Jervis wouldn’t say that, but the truth was the truth. He still couldn’t determine if this was a disorder or a side effect from the drug use. Either way, Jervis should see someone about it. Hallucinations were concerning at best, and as much as Jonathan didn’t oppose the thought of living alone again, he didn’t particularly want to watch his roommate lose his mind.  
“Have you considered seeing a therapist?”  
“Yeah, and I’ve seen a few before. They told me to stop smoking, and I did for a while, but sometimes it’s just fun, you know?” Jonathan didn’t know. He abhorred the thought of risking his intelligence with mass amounts of excess serotonin and dopamine, and he had other reasons for not being tempted by the idea while he was still alive, but those reasons weren’t important right now. If he had his way, those reasons wouldn’t be important ever again, but life was never that simple.  
“Did cutting the opium help reduce the hallucinations you experienced sober?”  
“Immensely.” Jonathan nodded at the response, though he knew Jervis couldn’t see him as the man stared at the carpet. The carpet was rather filthy. Jonathan sighed, mostly to himself. He really had let his house go, hadn’t he. While he was never one for extravagant living, even this was a bit too ramshackle to fit inside his range of ‘cluttered but comfortable’.  
“Consider this another therapist advising you to stop smoking.”  
“Consideration taken,” Jervis hummed happily. He all but nuzzled his cheek against Jonathan’s side, and Jonathan tensed at the action. The room dropped two degrees. Jervis didn’t notice, but did notice when Jonathan had become intangible again and Jervis fell onto the cushions of the couch just like before. He looked up at Jonathan, who once again had appeared standing in front of the couch, in confusion.  
“You shouldn’t get so familiar with someone you hardly know.”  
“I’ve been here nearly a month!”  
“And you’ve known me barely six days. Go ask that librarian you told me about to tea, get to know him, or hell, flirt with a coworker. But I want no part in your affections.” Jervis watched as Jonathan disappeared again, presumably back to his space in the basement. Jervis curled up a bit on the couch, down that he had made Jonathan so uncomfortable. But, perhaps the apparition had a point. There was no sense in befriending a spirit, that would simply be crazy. Humans and ghosts weren’t supposed to coexist like this, otherwise Jervis would’ve heard more about occasionally-tangible roommates, right? Right. That made sense. There wasn’t common knowledge of ghosts, and so humans and ghosts didn’t normally encounter each other, right? Right. That made sense as well.  
All of the making sense wasn’t actually making sense to Jervis just then though, and his thoughts drifted not to the man from the library - though that man was quite a looker, and was quite friendly as well - but to a coworker who often helped him evade the wrath of their boss. It was an odd sort of friendship between a scientist and a receptionist, if he could call it a friendship that is. The thing was, the two of them hardly ever did speak outside of work. Perhaps Jonathan had a point. Perhaps he should let the man continue whatever it is he’s doing in the basement. Perhaps he should pursue friendship elsewhere.  
He didn’t sleep well, but opium will do that to a man. He had almost fevered dreams, twisted and wild and somewhat unsettling. He dreamt of a world far different than his own, and of a woman with bright blonde hair and a gentle charm. He dreamt of talking rabbits and cards that could cut like knives. He dreamt of a caterpillar stealing his pipe, and of mushrooms. So many mushrooms. Too many mushrooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading this, I know I'm updating it Big Slowly, but I love each and very one of you <3


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, Jervis didn’t get up. In the afternoon, Jervis all but dragged himself off the couch. He went through his morning routine feeling as if he had been hit by a bus. His mouth was dry, and the back of his throat hurt from the smoke. His muscles were stiff from sleeping in a bad position, and he wasn’t even close to being rested enough to actually do something with his day. He was glad he didn’t need to go in to work today. He felt worse than a hangover.  
After his morning routine, accompanied by a cold shower now that the shower-bath wasn’t rancid, Jervis went back to the couch and just laid there. He hadn’t the energy to do much else, and so he planned on laying there until something came to mind, or until it was morning and he had to go to work. He was out cold in only an hour.  
In the basement, Jonathan was working just like always. He was nearly finished with this compound though, and just needed a test subject to ensure it would work as intended. It would be easy enough to find someone he could sneak fear toxin to. No, no that was never a problem, and Jonathan was quite happy with that. There were always people in range, some significantly closer than others, and he didn’t even need to bring them back to the house. Though, returning with the test subject to the basement made it easier to study them as his toxin did its work. He had to admit, despite the rather uncontrolled environment, his experiments and tests were going better now than they had been at Gotham University.  
Jonathan carefully poured the freshly-made fear toxin into a canister, sealing it so that nothing could enter and nothing could exit. He snapped the canister into the administrator that he at one point in time wore on his forearm. That was nearly five years ago though, when he would rob banks to pay his student loans. When he was still alive.

Amelia Jackson was on her way to the convenience store when she awoke in a rundown basement. The floorboards looked to be rotting, and the walls had no insulation inside them. There was a staircase to her left, and what laid in a pile beside the staircase was the cause of Amelia’s shrill scream. There sat a pile of bones - human bones - skull and all. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She didn’t know where she was or how she got there, only that she was there and she was scared.  
Amelia tried to stand, but her ankles and wrists were bound. She maneuvered her way to her knees, and then down so she could inchworm her way to the staircase. She had to get out of there. She didn’t notice the silver figure that stood at the table in the basement. Of course, the figure hadn’t wanted to be seen just yet. He did like to observe his test subjects for a moment before administering his toxin.  
He had observed long enough when Amelia reached the stairs. He appeared in front of her, sitting on the stairs in an almost cat-like manner. The boards creaked where he touched, though due to the chill and not the weight. There was no weight to cause the boards to creak. There was only an icy darkness, and the thin light that tried its best to break through a small basement window that was beginning to frost over despite being the early spring.  
“I hope you’re not leaving the party so soon, we’ve hardly gotten to dance,” the figure giggled as he outstretched his hand. Jonathan’s canister of fear toxin was strapped to his forearm. “Do stay, you’ll have a blast with us, they always said that two heads are better than one!” Amelia found that she didn’t agree, and she most certainly did not want to stay and dance. So she did the only form of self defense she could do, and she sank her teeth into the figure’s hand with as much force as she could ever hope to muster.  
The figure growled and grabbed Amelia by her jaw with his free hand. Amelia soon gasped in pain as the skin cells that covered the joints of her jaw began to develop frostbite. The figure pushed her back and stood, lanky and on uneven footing. He walked down the stairs like a glitch, here then there then over there then back here, sometimes moving here and there so fast it appeared as if he were in two places at once in the poor lighting of the basement. But, Amelia didn’t need lighting to see the, the whatever he was. His figure was luminescent, though the dull shine gave no light to the poorly-lit room.  
“What the fuck did you do to me? What are you?” Amelia wanted to sound more threatening, but the very act of moving her jaw sent a sharp pain through the joint. The figure giggled, almost a cackle really, as he wobbled over her Amelia and crouched down to better meet her height as she laid on the floor.  
“Me? Why, I am the Master of Fear! But you can just call me the Scarecrow.” The Scarecrow, as he called himself, extended out his arm once again, and this time he activated the canister. A gaseous form of Jonathan’s fear toxin was blown into Amelia’s face, and she coughed from the vapors. Each cough, each inhale, each breath further began the actual experiment. Amelia’s shreek and flailing despite her binds marked the start of the toxin’s effects, and the Scarecrow reappeared a few paces back as to not get hit by Amelia’s terrified struggling. The canister fell to the floor, as the Scarecrow wasn’t holding a form that could be touched by this plane of being. He didn’t notice the basement door open.  
“Doctor Crane? Jonathan?” Scarecrow turned at the sound of the good doctor’s name. In the doorway he saw a man, wrapped in a blanket, looking down at him with what looked to be concern. It was odd, as Scarecrow had no recollection of Jonathan ever having _friends_.  
“Doctor Crane isn’t here right now,” the Scarecrow said, not realizing that even in death he and the other personality looked exactly the same. Same body, same mind, same corpse, same cause of death. Same spiritual manifestation, though different levels of power. Much different levels of power. “But if you’d like to make an appointment?”  
“Now’s not the time for games, I heard someone scream. Are you alright down here?” Jervis began walking down the basement stairs, and Scarecrow met him halfway down.  
“Everything’s quite swell down here, you just run along back upstairs and nevermind what I’m doing down here.” Had he known how Jonathan acted, he would’ve made a better attempt at imitating him. But, again, he didn’t truly think Jonathan would ever just let someone live with him. Or be in his general company. His alter was a rather extreme form of introversion. And of course it was _Scarecrow’s_ alter and not the other way around, because even if Jonathan was around _first_ , Scarecrow was the one who gave Jonathan’s life so much joy. At least, that’s how Scarecrow rationalized it.  
“Jonathan, if you’re hurt, I want to -” Jervis froze, eyes on Amelia’s cowering body. The thought crossed his mind at, despite the fear in her eyes and what looked to be frostburns near the joints of her jaw, she was incredibly beautiful. Though he never had been overly fond of dark hair, Amelia’s black cut framed her face even now in a way that looked surreal. “Jonathan who is she?”  
“Oh, you know, a friend of mine.”  
“And why is she tied up?”  
“Oh, you know, bondage.”  
“You’re a ghost.”  
“That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.”  
“Is she a ghost as well?”  
“You know, not quite yet but give it some ti-” Scarecrow stopped himself mid-sentence, slapping a hand over his mouth when he realized what he was disclosing. Jervis looked as if he had, well, seen a ghost.  
“I’m going to go upstairs. I’m going to throw away the rest of my opium. I’m going to come back downstairs, and hope that I’m hallucinating.” With that, Jervis turned and walked back up out of the basement. While he didn’t actually throw away his opium, he did pack the kit up and cleaned up the end table.  
The Scarecrow turned to Amelia and glared. He appeared in front of her again, his hands on his hips, and his hip cocked in a rather inhuman way.  
“You almost got me in trouble, you awful thing. You need to pay me back now, so speak. Tell me, lady, what is it that you’re seeing right now?” Amelia didn’t speak, only begin to cry. There was blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Scarecrow reached out and, tangible just for the moment, wiped it away. He then grabbed her by the jaw again, fingers close to the previous frostbitten wounds, and forced her mouth open. There was a good chunk of her tongue missing, and he could only assume she had clenched her teeth in panic just a bit too hard. “Damn you, you’re such a good test subject, but I want to know what you saw!”

Jervis came back down into the basement to find the Scarecrow crouched down in front of that woman, in front of Amelia, holding her mouth open. Jervis held a card, and wore a thin, red ring around his head, much like a bandana or a crown.  
“Doctor Crane, I don’t know what you did but I can’t let you terrorize someone like her,” Jervis said, sounding almost defeated. He should’ve known that befriending a ghost would lead to something awful. There was always a reason people exorcise spirits from their houses.  
“Someone like her?” Jervis crouched down and brushed Amelia’s hair out of her face, ignoring the Scarecrow.  
“I’m terribly sorry about this, my dear, but I haven’t worked out all of the kinks yet. This might hurt a bit, I do hope you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me,” Jervis said just before he placed the card to rest between Amelia’s ear and temple, circuitry side facing her head. Amelia’s eyes went wide, and then they became half-lidded and dull just as Jervis could feel his mind connect with hers. “Don’t be afraid,” Jervis said, sending the same command through his thoughts and to Amelia. The command to release her fear. A poke, a nudge inside her mind saying ‘hey, actually we’re good, let’s stop the panic’. Her mind didn’t fight the suggestion that was not of her own creation, and her body began to come down from its fight-or-flight response.  
“You dirty son of a bitch! You’re talking away my fun!” Scarecrow growled at Jervis as the temperature of the basement dropped so low so suddenly that the test tubes on the table shattered. Jervis glared up at the ghost, unmoved by the display of power.  
“You can’t just kidnap someone because you want to, to, bloody hell, I don’t even know just what you’re doing down here but whatever it is, you can’t just kidnap someone to be a part of it!” Scarecrow looked as if he was seething, but Jervis ignored him. Instead, he untied Amelia’s wrists, and Scarecrow tackled Jervis to the ground. Jervis swore and took a swing at the Scarecrow, who had to remain tangible to keep Jervis pinned down.  
“You stupid man! I’ve worked years of my life to create this potent of a form of my fear toxin! Stop ruining my control tests!” _Fear toxin_. Jervis had heard that word used before, on the television’s news years and years ago. It had been used by some guy who would break into banks across Gotham and frighten the employees so badly that they wouldn’t - or more accurately, couldn’t - stop him from walking out with all of the vault cash. The anchormen called him the Scarecrow, because of the way he dressed. That, there was no way that was Jonathan, right? But he had called it _his_ fear toxin.  
“Miss, untie yourself and run!” Jervis said, mentally sending the same command to Amelia with as much urgency as he could without damaging her mind. Amelia sat up and untied her ankles without question, tossing the rope aside and getting up to both for the staircase.  
“No!” Scarecrow screamed as he vanished from atop Jervis and instead appeared behind Amelia. He grabbed her wrist tight as she tried to do what Jervis had commanded her to, and the Scarecrow’s grip set in frostbite to the tissues in contact with the apparition.  
Jervis scrambled over to where the bones he had brought up from under the house were sitting, figuring if it hurt a human, it could hurt a ghost. He grabbed what looked to be the eleventh rib, and Scarecrow turned to him when he felt the sharp chill in the same place, on his left side.  
“Let her go, Doctor Crane!” Jervis snapped the rib in half, and Scarecrow’s face twisted in excruciating pain before the ghost vanished. Jervis dropped the broken rib bone and Amelia continued to run away, up the stairs and onto the upstairs of the house. Jervis followed close behind, not knowing where the Scarecrow had gone and not particularly wanting to find out.  
Once he and Amelia were a decent ways away from the house, Jervis commanded her to stop. She did so, and Jervis stood on the tips of his toes to take the card from behind Amelia’s ear.  
“I’m terribly sorry I did that, Miss, but I couldn’t think of another thing I could do to let you escape the horrors my roommate had put you into. I do hope you’ll forgive me for such an invasion of privacy. Good day, Miss, and I do hope you’ll take care.” Amelia was disoriented for a few moments, a headache beginning to bloom, and only realized what had happened when Jervis had already started walking away. She went to call out for him to come back, but her tongue was throbbing in pain. She could still taste the blood, and decided it would be in her best interest to get the wound looked at instead of chasing down the man who had saved her from, well, a ghost.

Jervis stayed in a hotel near the outskirts of Gotham for a few days, hoping that whatever had come over Jonathan would just blow over. Maybe it was just a ghost thing? Jervis shook his head. No, it was as if Jonathan had become an entirely different person. And that person frightened the hell out of Jervis. He didn’t want anything to do with that, that _not-Jonathan_.  
He caught the bus into the citycenter to get to work, and while it was a bit more expensive than just walking, he didn’t really mind. He had to wake up earlier as well, but Jervis didn’t really mind that either. He enjoyed the extra freetime, and spent most of it working with the technology he had created on the side of his project at Wayne Industries. It provided a good distraction, allowing Jervis to not have to think about whether or not Jonathan would be upset with him when he eventually did go back home.  
Well, working, and swooning in his office over the laboratory floor receptionist. This woman was like a dream, kind and cunning, determined and charming. Especially charming. Especially clever. Especially kind. Especially determined. Well, especially everything. And on top of all that, the piece de resistance, she disliked the manager of the laboratory projects just as much as Jervis did. Often she would warn him that the manager was coming up for a check-about, or just to be a general nuisance like managers often would be. She’d rush in, sliding on the bottoms of her heels, telling him to look busy because the boss was coming. He never did quite understand how that woman could slide around in such heels without twisting her ankle, or worse, but Alice was talented at many impressive things. And more and more often, Jervis found that he was happiest when she was around.  
By the third day of spending more time in his lab than in his hotel or even simply outside of his lab, Jervis was beginning to find the limits to his technology. That, of course, meant he was going to need to start making improvements once again. That was how he worked. He tested his newest design until it stopped performing as it should, and then he improved the found bugs and hitches until the next newest design ran even smoother than before. By the end of the third day, his test-mice barely showed any signs of discomfort after being disconnected from the control chips.

Jervis had been gone three days now, and Jonathan had gone from mad at the man for breaking one of his bones to mad at himself for losing control of himself and allowing that _thing_ to have control over not just his first field test in what felt like an eternity, but over his actions as well.  
He hadn’t stepped foot in the basement since he regained control. He hadn’t checked his notes on the experiment, hadn’t made a move to further improve his fear toxin, hadn’t even tried to do something about the sharp pain coming from his left side. He could predict how the experiment went, he already knew what he wanted to do with his newest compound, and he already knew one of his ribs had been broken. He couldn’t bring himself to go into the basement, though.  
Sometimes he faded back into perpetual darkness. Sometimes he cleaned to kill the time, in the hopes that Jervis would come home from work and lend a hand like he always did when he came home to Jonathan cleaning the house. Most of the time though, most of the time Jonathan sat on the couch and watched the wall and waited in hopes of hearing the door open.  
He hated that he felt like this. It had barely been a week since he first spoke to Jervis, barely three weeks since he had noticed the man had moved in. He shouldn’t be missing the company so badly, but he was. By the third day, he was lonely even in his mind. Even in his own little world.  
“I thought you were going to stop blaming yourself for what I do?” Jonathan looked over at, well, himself but not himself. The second half of his torn soul. The half that should’ve been erased after his death, but instead took half of his being as his own.  
“It was just as much my fault as it was yours, and you know that, Scarecrow.” The apparition curled around Jonathan, not so much threatening as it was amused. Almost like a cat, curling itself around the ankles of its owner, trying to persuade its owner into giving it what it wants.  
“My experiment, my test subject, my energy being expended to possess said test subject,” the Scarecrow purred out his words much like, well, a cat. Yellow eyes that glowed something similar to Jonathan’s orange. Though, it was the Scarecrow who made Jonathan’s eyes visible like that. The Scarecrow’s inhuman yellow glow that turned a basic, natural, human amber colour into a glowing, supernatural orange.  
“My energy being shared so that you could keep _my_ equipment from slipping through you and being damaged in the drop to the floor,” Jonathan snapped back, his words a bite to, well, to himself. Himself but not himself. The Scarecrow was quiet, waiting for Jonathan to say something more. When Jonathan just looked out into the vast emptiness of the void, the Scarecrow groaned loud and overdramatic.  
“Stop being so moody. Let’s actually go somewhere, I’m tired of standing here in the darkness.” Jonathan gave the Scarecrow a stern look; a glare that could send shivers down the back of Satan himself.  
“You’re not standing, you’re floating like some cartoon. _I’m_ standing, and have all the intention to continue doing so until I can get back into the plane of the living.”  
“I know how you could get some of your energy back faster,” the Scarecrow said, giving Jonathan a suggestive look. Jonathan knew what Scarecrow was intending on suggesting, mostly because the man suggested it every time Jonathan let himself step foot into the plane of ghosts and spirits.  
“I am not letting you drag me into another massacre.”  
“It’s not a massacre! We’re merely weeding out the nethersphere. Besides, it’s an easy way to split the power fifty-fifty.” The Scarecrow looked almost offended by how Jonathan dismissed his preferred method of drawing power. Jonathan didn’t hate it, in fact he often enjoyed it and would suggest it as a fast means of stealing energy from another spirit, however it was more work than he really felt like giving at the moment. But, the Scarecrow did have a point. It was easy power.  
“Only if I choose who this time,” Jonathan replied, giving the Scarecrow a grin. Scarecrow visibly lit up, scrambling mid-air down onto his feet.  
“You got it, Jonny!” the other half of him said as he looped an arm around Jonathan’s shoulders. The two of them walked together until the darkness faded into a hazy but actual location.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the pre-written stuff. It's all unwritten territory now.
> 
> I honestly thought I had uploaded this chapter a month ago,,, Oh well. Stay safe, and thanks for reading!!


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